


Honeyed

by what_a_dork_fish



Category: Kingsman: The Secret Service (2015)
Genre: HOW LONG HAS THIS BEEN SITTING IN MY DONE FOLDER, Hartwin, M/M, Mild Smut, Speaking In Tongues, hella ridiculous, no outright sex but what can you do
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-05
Updated: 2016-06-05
Packaged: 2018-07-12 08:46:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,135
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7094917
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/what_a_dork_fish/pseuds/what_a_dork_fish
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry likes to speak French. Eggsy hates not knowing what he's saying.</p>
<p>A prompt from about a year ago on tumblr. Hope you like!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Honeyed

They tried to be quiet, but it was… difficult.

Eggsy bit his lip, trying to swallow a moan. It wasn’t fair oh god it wasn’t fair. By all rights, he should be—oh—he should be on—oh yes, oh  _ yes _ —on top. It just wasn’t  _ fair _ .

But of course he would never say that to Harry.

“Chéri, si seulement tu savais ce que tu me fais. Et ce que je pourrais te faire.”

Eggsy groaned, feeling Harry breathe the words against his arse, kisses peppering the swell of his backside.

“Tu gémirais d'une si jolie manière, n'est-ce pas chéri? Tu me supplierais?”

Harry’s French did things to Eggsy. Harry's everything did things to him really, but there was something almost darkly erotic about the older spy when he forwent English for another language; the already baritone voice sinking lower, gaining an even smokier and richer tone. Eggsy was almost certain he could come from Harry reading a phone book in any language other than English.

Another lick, as Harry moved a hand from his hip to join his tongue in opening him up, long and dextrous fingers playing his body like an instrument.

Eggsy groaned again.

“Supplie-moi, mon coeur.”

~~~\0/~~~

“Eggsy Eggsy wake up wake up!”

Eggsy groaned and tried to turn away, but Daisy climbed on the bed and shook his shoulder, still shrieking. “Eggsy Eggsy Eggsy, wake up! ‘Arry’s making brekfuss! ‘Arry’s making pancakes!”

“Good for Harry,” Eggsy muttered, flipping his pillow over his head. “’Bout time he fended f’r himself.”

“He said if you don’t come downstairs he won’t kiss you good morning!”

Eggsy lifted the pillow and squinted at the toddler beaming down at him. “No he didn’t.”

“He diiid!” she insisted, tugging his arm. “He’ll eat all the pancakes!”

Eggsy growled something not appropriate for children’s ears and propped himself up on his elbows. As usual, Harry had tucked him in quite chastely; and he was still very naked under the blankets and sheets. “Alright, fine,” he grumbled, rubbing his eyes as Daisy sat back on her heels, watching him carefully. “Go down and tell him to save some for me or he’ll have his ass kicked up between his ears.”

Daisy laughed, flung her arms around her big brother’s neck for a quick hug, and scampered out of the room and down the stairs again. Eggsy smiled just a little, and dragged himself out of bed with another reluctant groan. God, would it really be that bad if he slept in just  _ once _ ? All the things he’d done for these people, saving the world, helping resurrect the whole agency… it wouldn’t all collapse just because he’d hid under the blankets for another half-hour, right?

The smell of bacon and eggs drifted through the door, very faint; but it set his tummy rumbling, so he pulled on a pair of boxers (probably Harry’s) and some trousers (definitely Harry’s, the way he kept stepping on the hems) and stomped to the bathroom to wash his face. The cold water woke him up a little more, and he finally felt alert enough to communicate with people other than family.

Harry was, indeed, making pancakes, with Daisy kneeling on a stool drawn up beside him. It was kind of cute, though Eggsy could only see their backs; Harry dressed neatly and standing tall, Daisy still in her neon-green nightie with her mussed-up hair held back with plastic clips. A fine toothsome smell emanated from the stove. Eggsy tried to walk softly—

“Good, you’re awake,” Harry threw over his shoulder, flipping a cake and stirring the bacon and sausage. “Would you start the toast please?”

“Pretty pleeease?” Daisy added.

Eggsy sighed sharply, but strode over to kiss Daisy’s head and stood on tiptoe to reach Harry’s cheek before grabbing the bread.

Mum wasn’t there to share breakfast. She had a new job; night-shift at a hospital, doing… whatever it is they needed done. The hospitals were still shaky after V-Day. Everything was shaky. But Kingsman was not, thank god, no matter that they’ve lost several agents…

Why was he thinking horrible thoughts? Eggsy scowled and shoved all that away, to focus on breakfast with his family.

And they are a family. They are, they are, they  _ are _ . He refused to let anyone sway him from that fact.

When he was done buttering toast, Harry and Daisy were done with their cooking as well, and as soon as his hands were free, Eggsy hugged Harry tightly. It’d only been a few months since they brought him home; Eggsy still wasn’t tired of the ability to bury his face in Harry’s chest and take a deep breath of his scent whenever he wants. This morning he smelt of food and soap and just the tiniest hint of sex.

“Are you going to sit in your own chair this morning, or shall you sit on my knee?” Harry asked lightly, even as he wrapped one arm tightly around Eggsy. The younger man contemplated the question seriously for a moment, then sighed.

“I guess I better set a good example,” he decided glumly. Besides, after last night, he didn’t think he could sit on any surface other than a completely level one for long without considerable pain.

“Let’s eat!” Daisy cheered from the dining room, and Eggsy pulled away from Harry with a grin. They’ll hug and murmur later. For now, there was a full English spread on the table, ready to be devoured.

~~~\0/~~~

“Der kai-zuh.”

“Der Käse,” Harry corrected, the corner of his mouth tipping upwards. “I thought you said you were good with languages.”

“I am,” Eggsy grumped, squinting at the pages of the book Harry had pulled out of storage for him. “Just not ones with fucked up grammar.”

“And English grammar is so very sensible, I know.”

Eggsy glared. Harry raised one eyebrow slightly, his face still calm and slightly amused. Eggsy did not get to shoot back any sarcastic barbs of his own, because mum appeared in the doorway, smiled a little to see them bent over books together, and announced, “I’m takin’ Dais to playgroup. Don’t have too much fun, a’right?”

“Yeah, don’t have fun wifout me!” Daisy piped up, popping past her mother to run over and hug Eggsy tightly, and then threw herself at Harry as well. “Bye-bye!”

“Goodbye, sunbeam,” Harry said solemnly, patting her head. “I shall try not to be too amused.”

Daisy laughed and ran out of the room again. Mum smiled again--she was doing that more often these days--waved to the boys, and went to catch her daughter.

Harry and Eggsy sat very still until they heard the door close. Then Eggsy snapped the book shut, levered himself into Harry’s lap, and demanded, “So what were you sayin’ last night?”

Harry kissed him gently. “It’s a secret.”

“You’re an assho--mmm…”

As delightful as this was (how could a simple hand-to-thigh contact be so deliciously distracting?), it wasn’t answers. So Eggsy pushed away, scowling again. “No,” he said sternly, as if to JB when the pug was being especially pathetic in hopes of treats. “You gotta answer me for once.”

Harry sighed and nuzzled Eggsy’s neck, his hand sneaking over Eggsy’s thigh ever so slowly. “Well, mon chéri means ‘my dear’, and  chou à la crème is ‘creampuff’...”

“I knew ch é ri,” Eggsy interrupted, grabbing Harry’s wrist before that wonderfully adventurous hand could find better places to distract him. “Where did ‘creampuff’ ever come in?”

“ Je t’ai embrassé en secret. Tu ne t’en rappelles pas ? ” Fingertips began to flick at Eggsy’s fly.  “Tu me suppliais d'en avoir plus, comme je savais que tu ferais. Mon petit chou à la crème. Mon chaton.” 

“Now I know you’re just messing with me,” Eggsy mumbled, unable to meet Harry’s eyes. He refused to admit how goddamn horny it made him when Harry talked in a different language. It was some real Pavlovian shit and it was a little frightening.

His grip had loosened too far. Harry’s hand slid between his legs. Eggsy forgot what they had been talking about.

~~~\0/~~~

“I don’t want to know,” Roxy said flatly, as soon as she saw Eggsy’s grin.

“I know you don’t, so I ain’t gonna tell you,” Eggsy retorted archly, flopping into the chair beside her. Technically he was supposed to sit across from her, but since Percival wasn’t there yet, why force himself to sit next to grumpy old Bedivere, who always bristled with disapproval? “But I need help. Do you speak French?”

“No, I took Latin and German,” she answered, then narrowed her eyes at him suspiciously. “Does this have to do with…?” She trailed off because besides Bedivere, three other agents were also sitting at the table, and they were all trying very hard to look like they weren’t listening closely. Everyone knew Arthur and Galahad were living together, and while there were definitely rumors, there was nothing concrete. Nothing public, at least.

Eggsy glared disapprovingly at them all, with that faint disgust that Harry had taught him, the one that said he knew exactly what they were thinking and he was profoundly disappointed in them all for having such filthy minds. And they called themselves professionals.

He then turned back to Roxy and said, “Yeah, an’ these dickheads don’t deserve to know.”

Someone stifled an offended noise. Roxy kicked Eggsy under the table.

The meeting couldn’t officially start until Harry was there as well, but the agents were all gathered and bored when he walked in. He raised his eyebrow as the veterans frowned at him and the newer agents pressed their lips together. Eggsy, leaning his head in his hand and his elbow on the table, spoke for all of them; “You are a dick an’ a half, y’know that?”

Maybe no one else noticed the way Harry’s mouth twitched; definitely no one but Eggsy immediately imagined him saying, “That’s not what you said last night.”

“I do apologize,” Harry said graciously. “I was taking my niece to school.”

Eggsy refrained from his automatic response of, “You mean I took you so good you couldn’t walk proper this morning.”

“You don’t have a niece,” Percival commented, frowning harder. He was ten years Harry’s junior and ten times as strict with facts.

Harry gave him a quelling look, one that promised painful things if Percival spoke out of turn again. Instead of spoken threats, he strode to the head of the table, on the right side, passing behind Roxy. He’d told Eggsy once that he couldn’t pass his old seat without setting off memories that he’d rather ignore. It made Eggsy very angry. What had Chester done to his babe to haunt him even now?

But he couldn’t think of that right now. So he leaned back in his chair and clasped his hands in his lap and looked at Harry with the most open and innocent expression he could muster. Harry kicked him under the table.

The meeting was boring, as usual, but most of what was discussed was important to the continued functioning of Kingsman. Eggsy tried to pay attention, but it was worse than school. He amused himself for a bit attempting to play footsie with Harry, who promptly kicked him again. Then he fiddled with his pen, until he realized that other agents were giving him wary looks. It hadn’t been his fault that he’d had to kill all those people with a pen that one time! They’d taken his knives and broken his leg, what else was he supposed to do? But he set his pen down carefully, and many of the others relaxed just a little. 

Tristan continued to subtly (not subtly at all, actually; he may as well have just kept turning his head directly at Eggsy) side-eye him, gaze switching between Harry, Eggsy, and the pen, before repeating the sequence.

Eggsy unclicked the cap then replaced it, watching as the other agents, Tristan especially, tensed and then relaxed. He repeated the actions several times with a smirk.

“Galahad, stop terrorising my agents,” Harry sighed. Eggsy squinted at him, hearing the amusement thinly veiled in his voice.

“Yeah, Galahad. Leave us alone,” Gwaine whispered from beside Eggsy. 

Eggsy popped the cap off so it flicked onto the table, spinning the pen deftly over his fingers. Everyone leaned away slightly. “I’m not doing anythin’,” he proclaimed innocently. “I’m just bored. When we breakin’ for tea?”

Nobody said anything, but someone’s stomach burbled hopefully.

Harry looked around the table, then sighed, and ordered, “Let’s wrap this up quickly. I know some of you have engagements to keep--” he raised his eyebrow at Lamorak, down near the foot of the table, who had the grace to blush (he was involved in a torrid affair and everyone was annoyed with him about it), “--and the rest of us will think better without Kay’s stomach interrupting.”

Kay, who was quite possibly more bear than man and had the metabolism of a hummingbird, and claimed his size was what made him eat five times as much as anyone else, scowled at Harry. And then his tummy made another grumbling noise, and Eggsy couldn’t repress a snort.

Quickly, decisions were made and written, and then everyone except Harry stood and filed out of the room. Well, everyone filed out except Eggsy, who lingered by the doorway, and waited until everyone was safely down the stairs before turning sharply, trotting back to Harry, and planting his behind firmly on Harry’s knee.

“So, where we goin’ today?” Eggsy asked, hooking his arm around Harry’s neck.

“Well, you have been a constant distraction, so no curries,” Harry mused, arms around Eggsy with his hands clasped on his hip, “And you are failing your lessons, so none of that detestable German sausage and sauerkraut. Perhaps The Ledbury?”

Eggsy stared at him, astonished and betrayed. Harry  _ knew _ how much Eggsy loved sauerkraut. This was unfair punishment for something he couldn’t help. Instead of whine like Daisy at bedtime, he grumped, “I thought you liked sausage.”

“Only certain kinds.”

Eggsy was tempted to keep the innuendos going, but he wasn’t really in the mood. So instead he changed back to the previous subject. “Ledbury’s too expensive.”

“Didn’t you say you enjoyed it?”

“Yeah, but--” But that was only because they’d been there for a very late dinner and Harry had given him a blow job in the bathroom. Everything had tasted good with that memory so new and close.

Harry was nuzzling his neck again. “It won’t be that bad, mon chéri,” he coaxed gently. “We can try whatever the newest monstrosity is, have some actually good wine…”

“You do remember this is lunch, not supper.”

“Of course. But the meeting shan’t resume for several hours.”

“How many times do we gotta fuck before you’re satisfied?” Eggsy demanded in a hiss; his skin was beginning to prickle, and he felt hot all over. Why did this always happen?!

Harry smiled and Eggsy had to fight not to smile back. “I don’t think I’ll ever have enough with you,” he answered, in an unusually gentle tone.

That was entirely not what Eggsy had expected. He looked down at the arm across his lap, running his fingertips along the creases in Harry’s sleeve. Maybe that should offend him, or make him uncomfortable; but he knew, from multiple sources, that while Harry was  _ good _ at sex, he didn’t particularly  _ like _ it. He’d used it as a tool too many times or whatever. So to be told that Harry not only enjoyed it with Eggsy, but enjoyed it enough to want it so often, was supposedly a compliment.

It didn’t feel complimentary.

But that was, again, going into dark territories. Eggsy shook those thoughts out of his head and raised his eyes to play-scowl at Harry. “Okay, just once,” he grumbled.

“Tu es un Soleil parmi les étoiles,” Harry murmured, kissed his cheek, and stood, bring Eggsy up with him. “So. Ledbury it is.”

~~~\0/~~~

Harry was a favorite customer at The Ledbury, actually. The staff greeted him by name with smiles, and though the smiles were smaller when turned to Eggsy, they were no less sincere.

The two of them were shown to a small table in a quiet corner, and served promptly and respectfully.  A murmured word and they were left alone with a bottle of wine and their lunch.

Eggsy eyed the bottle warily. He tried to decide how much would be too much--they couldn’t return to the meeting half-drunk, after all--well, Eggsy would be half-drunk, Harry seemed to have the capacity of a legendary viking--but he gave up after the first glass. He just wouldn’t have as much as he would at dinner.

As usual, it was good food and drink, but the real entertainment was Harry’s quiet comments about the other diners. He seemed to know something about  _ everyone.  _ Eggsy was certain at least three people Harry supposedly read were bullshit. Occasionally he had to cough into his napkin to hide a laugh, though from the way the couple at the next table over glared at him, he wasn’t doing a very good job.

“That man over there, the one in red. I believe I have seen him at the fish and chips stand near your old flat,” Harry murmured.

Eggsy glanced at the man in question. He was quite portly, and he certainly seemed familiar. He was also currently boasting loudly about how well his business was doing. The pretty woman seated beside the man in red picked at her food, looking bored. The other three men, all dressed in sober black, listened with half an ear and identical expressions of ironically amused disbelief.

“What about the others? Tryin’ to get investors?” Eggsy muttered into his pasta.

Harry watched them covertly over the rim of his glass. “Probably,” he answered when he’d finished off his drink. “He won’t get any help from them. I know their families, and they’re all bankrupt.”

“How do you--”

“Let’s change the subject, because I’ve had a thought,” Harry said suddenly, and snuck a piece of chicken off Eggsy’s plate with his fork. Eggsy glared at him, but Harry chewed and swallowed briskly before continuing, “Have you been practicing your account-keeping?”

“What, between languages, meetings, and workouts?” Their private code for all the fun they got up to when no one else was home. “I ain’t had time. What’s that got to do with anything?”

“I assume you know my family was too small for Valentine to bother with.”

“The part of your family that hasn’t written you out, you mean.”

“Yes. Well, the creditors have been hounding them, and they are asking for my help financially. They may also ask you.”

“But--stop doing that!” as Harry stole another piece of chicken. Eggsy cupped his arm around his plate and scooted away half an inch. “I don’t got any money either.”

“They don’t know that. I thought I’d warn you. If they get too insistent, we can always take that holiday in France.” Harry tore a piece off his serving of bread and offered it to Eggsy gravely. He took it warily, and immediately took a huge bite of it. He almost choked when Harry added, with a bit of a growl ,  “Alors la France saurait à quel point tu es beau. Et à quel point tu m'appartiens. ”

“You gotta stop doing that,” Eggsy mumbled around his bread.

“Don’t ruin my fun. Tu rougis si joliment, mon amour. Comme la première rose de l'été.”

“I’m warning you…”

“Néanmoins ta peau est bien plus douce, j'en suis sûr.”

It was hard to swallow, but Eggsy managed. He hoped nobody around them could understand.

“Bien que je t'ai goûté, très soigneusement d'ailleurs. Et chéri, tu es divin.”

Eggsy shifted subtly. Harry's voice had taken on that tone that meant he was saying something hot, and very inappropriate.

“Harry,” Eggsy hissed.

“Oh mon adoré, ne t'emporte pas. C’est la vérité. Plus encore quand tu t'agites dans mes draps, implorant, suppliant d'en avoir plus. Ou mieux encore, d'avoir ma bi—“

A wine bottle shattered near them, the maroon tide splashing the top of their table and Eggsy’s suit. He jumped, sufficiently distracted; they both looked at the waiter, whose face was red, and was frantically trying to soak up the mess with his towel.

“I am so terribly sorry,” the young Frenchmen bustled.

Eggsy noticed Harry’s eyes close a moment longer than a blink. Shit. What did Harry say?

The bang and clatter of a dropped tray drew attention from the whole restaurant. Eggsy and Harry both whipped their heads up and around, to see that another waiter passing their table had dropped a tray of dirty dishes, and was now scrambling to pick them up, muttering apologies. Eggsy immediately got up and knelt to help retrieve silverware that had skittered under his and Harry’s chair, ignoring the wine on his jacket and lap. Which put him at a very convenient height…

Get your mind out of the gutter, Eggsy. He grabbed the used utensils and dropped them on the tray. The waiter already had most of the rest piled back on, but the look he gave Eggsy made him very glad neither of their faces could be easily read at this level.

“C-can’t you wait til you leave before you start talking like that?” the fellow hissed, snatching the last plate.

“Why were you listenin’ in?” Eggsy retorted, though he could feel a blush strengthening in his cheeks.

“I wasn’t! You--” The waiter glanced up, saw that Harry was looking, and immediately ducked his head again. “You’re not that subtle about it,” the poor boy muttered grumpily.

Eggsy’s blush abruptly drained away, and he glanced up at the man who’d spilled wine, who also looked subtly horrified. Oh no--had anyone else heard? Had anyone else…?

The tray was stacked, the ruckus was over. The waiter stood and meekly accepted the help of the wine-bearer. Eggsy levered himself back into his chair. Harry’s expression was one of vague interest. Perhaps Eggsy was the only one who’d notice how his ears and neck were just a little pinker, as much of a blush as Harry ever had.

“They heard,” Eggsy said frankly.

“Oh dear,” Harry replied.

The rest of the meal was quiet. The disapproving couple finished. The man in red failed to interest the would-be investors, and the bored woman escaped before any of the others. Eggsy drank too much wine.

As they were climbing into the taxi, they both got a notification. Simultaneously, Harry and Eggsy pulled out their glasses and put them on.

Merlin had been the one to beep, as usual. “The scheduled meeting is canceled,” Merlin told them both frankly. “Harry, I have missions for you to assign.”

Harry sighed, his hand seeking out Eggsy’s thigh almost thoughtlessly. “Fine. We’ll be there in ten.”

“You’d better,” Merlin answered. “And no canoodling with Eggsy. He needs to take a mission too for once.”

Eggsy scowled. Harry’s hand on his leg tightened. “Yes, Mother Lin,” Harry replied sarcastically, and abruptly took off his glasses.

Eggsy almost copied him, but Merlin stopped him with a sharp, “Be sensible for once, Eggsy, and don’t let him talk you into anything.”

“Yessir,” Eggsy muttered, and removed the lenses from his face.

Harry removed his hand from Eggsy’s thigh and instead wrapped his arm around Eggsy’s waist, pulling him as close as possible. “He’s not your boss,” he reminded the younger man.

“He’s right, though,” Eggsy pointed out reluctantly. “There ain’t any work for me here.”

Harry did not answer right away. He kissed Eggsy’s neck, and when Eggsy nodded he slid his hand in the other’s trousers, but he didn’t say anything. Only when Eggsy was struggling to breathe normally and fidgeting badly did Harry murmur, “We have time. Je veux que tu m’appelles encore une fois. Je veux te faire crier. Je--oh dear.”

Eggsy bit his lip fiercely and tried to hold it back, but it happened anyway. When Harry pulled his hand out of Eggsy’s trousers it was wet and slightly sticky.

“It’s your fault,” Eggsy muttered unevenly.

Harry kissed his cheek. “Good.”

Their esteemable driver inquired, “Shall we make a stop at home first, sir?”

“That is an excellent idea,” Harry agreed.

~~~\0/~~~

Eggsy was fairly sure he wasn’t qualified for the position of bodyguard, but Harry’s reasoning (in that infuriatingly logical and convincing tone that usually meant he was bullshitting to the max) had been almost as good as Merlin’s. The principle was a woman about Eggsy’s age--he had not been told her name. She had simply requested someone watch her back.

“Why can’t Rox--Lancelot do it?” Eggsy had whined upon receiving the files.

“Because Lancelot is needed in Spain,” Harry had replied smoothly. “She is the only one with the skills needed for that particular mission.”

Except she wasn’t. But Eggsy had decided not to argue. He’d still been emotionally conflicted about the events of lunch and directly after (Harry had helped him clean up and redress, which made a five-minute task into a twenty-minute one). Also, it was only supposed to be a one-night deal; after he’d returned the principle, he could come straight back home. Which would be very nice, he supposed.

What could possibly go wrong?

~~~\0/~~~

“Babe, what happened?!”

Harry did not pause in his task of bandaging Eggsy’s hands. Eggsy grinned lopsidedly at his mother; lopsided, because from his cheekbone to his jaw was covered with gauze and cotton due to the fact that he’d skidded on his face on rough concrete, grinning because the pain medication was making him rather woozy and lightheaded.

“Nothing, just fell down the stairs,” he assured her cheerfully.

“Several times,” Harry murmured, too quietly for mum to hear.

Mum made a disgusted noise, setting Daisy down beside Eggsy and taking one hand (gently) away from Harry to inspect the extent of the damage. Fortunately, she had picked up his right hand; only his palm was skinned. His left hand and arm had skidded and landed on broken glass, and was bandaged all the way to his elbow. It didn’t hurt, though. Harry had kissed it better already.

Daisy put her hand on the pad of gauze on Eggsy’s face and mimicked her mother’s disgust. “Stop getting hurt!” the toddler ordered the adult.

“I’ll try,” the adult promised meekly.

Mum insisted on making tea, because that’s what you do when something out of the ordinary happens, and Eggsy did secretly appreciate the warmth of the mug between his palms. He did not appreciate being hustled upstairs like a sick child and scolded for his carelessness. Was it  _ his _ fault that bastard had thought it’d be funny to throw Eggsy down the stairs?

Well, actually, yes, it probably was.

His dirty, ripped suit was whisked away, and mum chose his pajamas. Harry helped him dress because his side still hurt enough that he didn’t like bending over. The only way it could have been more embarrassing was if Daisy was there to see. But, thankfully, mum had sent her to her room, because it  _ was _ very late; and when Harry promised to tuck Eggsy in and make sure he stayed in bed, mum gave him a sharp, suspicious look, but nodded and announced, “I’ll check on Dais. And then I’m calling your boss.”

Eggsy winced. Harry didn’t even blink. “I’m sure he would appreciate your feedback,” Harry replied sincerely.

Mum looked at him like she wanted to say something, then shook her head and left the room.

Harry immediately turned, stacked the pillows on the bed as a kind of prop, and shooed Eggsy into bed. Eggsy allowed himself to be shooed, though he dragged his feet.

“Why does she gotta fuss like that?” he grumbled, pouting because he could not scowl.

Harry finished tucking him in and sat on the edge of the bed, one hand resting lightly on Eggsy’s knee. “Because she cares,” the elder answered. “Would you prefer she ignored your injuries, or told you they did not matter?”

Eggsy raised his hand and touched the bridge of Harry’s nose. The scar by his eye was barely visible, but Eggsy could always find it. “No,” he mumbled. “They don’t, though.”

Harry took hold of Eggsy’s wrist, gently, and pulled his hand down to kiss his bandaged palm. “They do,” he replied softly. “At least, they do to her. And me.”

“Harry…”

The poignant moment was broken by JB jumping up on the bed and flopping down with a pug-sigh, his head on Eggsy’s hip, gazing up at his master with mournful eyes.

“No,” Harry said firmly, stood, picked up JB, and carried him out of the room again. “You are not allowed on the bed. Go play with Daisy.”

JB gave one pathetic whine, and Eggsy suppressed the urge to laugh, a little helplessly, as Harry escorted the dog down the hall to Daisy’s room. They were greeted with a cry of delight, and when Harry returned, Eggsy was pleased to see a small smile on his babe’s face.

“They are playing tug-of-war with that hideous nightie Dean’s mother sent her,” Harry informed Eggsy. “I do hope Michelle isn’t angry.”

“She won’t be. Um…”

“Ah.” Harry closed the door, walked over, and pulled two of the pillows out from under Eggsy, so that he fell with a yelp. Before he could push himself upright again, Harry climbed into bed and pulled him into a nice snug cuddle.

“What’re you doing?” Eggsy demanded indignantly, even as he nestled closer.

“Distracting you,” Harry replied frankly. He put his hand on Eggsy’s hip, and when Eggsy nodded, slid it over to firmly grip his backside. “Pain only worsens when you dwell on it.”

Eggsy swallowed hard. He was very tired, and his scrapes and bruises hurt; but… well… surely it wouldn’t be wrong to just be distracted.

Harry kissed his forehead. “Je vais te faire oublier tout ça. Tu iras beaucoup mieux.”

“I hate it when you do that,” Eggsy mumbled, squirming a little closer.

“Laisse-moi te consoler avec mes baisers.” Harry rolled on top of him, carefully, and kissed Eggsy very slowly and warmly. The hand on Eggsy’s butt slid upwards, but only enough to creep back under the waistband of his pants. Harry’s other hand was engaged in pulling down the blanket; Eggsy tried to help, kicking a bit, but it didn’t really work, and his own hands were busy opening Harry’s shirt.

The kiss ended much, much too soon. Eggsy gave a tiny moan in protest, which turned into a tiny gasp as Harry kissed his neck; and then the kiss traveled down, following the cord of muscle there, and it wasn’t a kiss anymore but the tip of his tongue, barely touching Eggsy’s skin, leaving a trail of fire—foiled by the collar of his shirt. Harry grunted in annoyance, and proceeded to undress Eggsy with an efficiency that left him both breathless and unhappy, because while the heat and friction of Harry’s bare torso against his was immensely exciting, it was going too fast. Slow down—slow down, kiss him more, do that licking thing again—

Harry only slowed when Eggsy’s shirt was across the room and his trousers were around his ankles.  _ Then _ Harry kissed him again, and gave him a most glorious hickey as the elder shed his own clothes. Eggsy was happy to spread his knees so Harry could fit more easily between his legs; and he was happy to clamp his legs around Harry’s waist, though it made the other grumble. But he did not stop kissing his chest, slowly moving downwards, running his tongue down the channel between his abs, skipping his bellybutton, trailing down down down—

“No,” Eggsy managed to gasp, just before Harry reached his destination. “No, not tonight.”

Harry hesitated, raised one eyebrow. Then he nodded, and worked his way up again, although his hands remained on Eggsy’s thighs. That was just fine. Eggsy groped for the drawer of the nightstand; Harry paused politely so he could fumble out the proper supplies, and did the honors of application with his mouth firmly planted on Eggsy’s neck. That did not stop his murmuring.

“Ca faisait longtemps, n'est-ce pas, mon petit chou à la crème?”

“H-Harry—Harry—“

“C'est ça, mon cher et tendre. Appelle-moi par mon nom. Parle-moi. Je te donnerai tout ce que tu veux. Je te prendrai aussi longtemps que tu voudras. Jusqu'à ce que tu cries... jusqu'à ce que tu ne puisses même plus sortir de ce lit...”

“Just do it, please, just do it—“

It was getting hard to breathe. He could feel the slightest bit of pressure; could feel the beginning—“Harry, I can’t—“

“Très bien. Uniquement parce que tu le demandes si gentiment.”

“Ha—!”

~~~\0/~~~

“So do you know anyone who can translate these for me?”

Roxy stared at the thick sheaf of papers in Eggsy’s hands, covered in cramped, tiny writing, with very small margins. “What are those?” she asked warily.

“Transcripts,” he replied, trying to roll the papers and not doing a very good job at it. “I put a mic in--well, Harry won’t tell me what any of it means. So I’ve written it all down.”

“How many weeks’ worth is that?” Roxy demanded, reaching over the thumb the corners of the papers. Eggsy yanked them  back and pressed them to his chest.

“It’s just a few days, actually,” he admitted. “We both got healthy appetites.”

Roxy raised her eyebrows and cocked her head a little. “Would that be why you’re limping today?” she inquired dryly.

Eggsy grinned, though it made his cheek hurt. “Oh yeah. We did this thing where he lic--”

“Alright, let’s get this over with,” Percival sighed as he stepped through the door. Eggsy and Roxy immediately snapped to attention, the former shoving his papers under his jacket. “Arthur said Galahad needs to work on tumbling, and Lancelot should practice kicking people down the stairs.”

“What?! I don’t need to “work on tumbling”, I just got--”

“Will I be kicking him or you?” Roxy interrupted Eggsy smoothly. Eggsy glared, feeling slightly betrayed.

Percival’s mouth twitched. “You will,” he answered Roxy. “I’m just here to make sure you actually do it instead of chat.”

“I don’t need--OW!”

Their entire workout session was Roxy attempting to beat the shit out of Eggsy, and Eggsy trying desperately not to have the shit beaten out of him. This distracted him from lovely memories and made every injury ache even worse. When Percival finally called a halt, Eggsy sat down right where he was and scowled at Roxy, who flipped her ponytail out of her face and smiled.

“You’re slow today,” she observed.

Eggsy cussed at her and she kicked him over, gently.

After compulsory exercise and a test to make sure Eggsy hadn’t lost any range of motion with his fall down the stairs, the two junior members were dismissed. Roxy took Eggsy’s arm and dragged him down the hall; and when they reached a stretch of corridor free of cameras and mics, she told him in a low voice, “I have a friend in the translation department. She’s discreet, and she’ll not breathe a word that it’s you who gave her extra work.”

“What languages does she know?” Eggsy asked softly, matching Roxy’s volume. “‘Cos I’ve got some Italian and German in here as well as French.”

“What do you two even get up to? No, don’t answer that. Yes, she’s made a study of most European languages, so she should be able to translate most of whatever you’ve got. You’ll have to pay her…”

“Didn’t expect any less than that. Alright, when can we go talk to her?”

“Now.”

~~~\0/~~~

Roxy’s friend turned out to be a woman named Ellie, a little older than them, perhaps in her early thirties, who saw them standing in the doorway and smiled very slowly. She turned in her chair, hooking one arm over the back, and rocked the chair back as far as it would go.

“So are the rumors true?” Ellie asked, her voice only lightly accented. “Does he speak in tongues when you two are alone?”

“Rumors?” Eggsy repeated, eyes widening. He knew some people suspected they were closer than they pretended, but he hadn’t known the rumors went that far. Then he shook himself mentally and scowled at the slyly-grinning translator. “I dunno what you’ve been hearing, but it’s probably not true. Can you help me please, or not?”

“Only because you asked so nicely.”

A shiver ran up his spine, but he didn’t know why, so he just handed over the pages to be translated and asked, “Hourly or salary?”

“Hmm.” Ellie thumbed the pages, counting them. Then she smiled craftily. “A lump sum, I think. How about £50 up front?”

Eggsy immediately reached for his wallet.

~~~\0/~~~

Three weeks later, Ellie came to him with four three-ring binders, her eyes wide in a set face. Eggsy, who had just come back from a mission and was very angry about it (he’d been  _ so close _ , and then the government had terminated the contract), looked at her and could not stop himself from saying, “Please let it be good. I need good right now.”

“It’s good,” she promised, handing over the binders. They were all full, though none were bursting or disheveled, and heavy. Eggsy flipped the top one open as Ellie continued, “Some translations, I wasn’t sure which was completely accurate, so I included all possibilities, as well as literal. It’s all pretty… interesting.”

Eggsy frowned at the first page. What was interesting about this? Just things he himself had said occasionally as well, and heard in English many times--

Then he came across a phrase that made his breath catch and his whole body go rigid, because he remembered that night, he remembered it very well, and oh god it had been glorious.

“I… I see that,” he answered Ellie weakly.

“Does he talk like that all the time?” she inquired, with a look like she didn’t really want to know, but felt compelled to ask.

“Not all the time,” he replied, continuing to read. He knew he shouldn’t, but it was so… sating, and relieving, to finally know what Harry had kept promising.

But there was a problem. Because some of what he’d promised to do, he never had done.

“Is that even anatomically possible?” Eggsy wondered aloud, astonished by a particularly delightful phrase.

“I don’t know. My partner and I succeeded at it,” Ellie offered, shrugging as Eggsy looked up to glare at her. “What? It was interesting, we were bored.”

“How much to buy both of your absolute silence?”

“ _ Both _ our silence?” Ellie began to grin, a glint in her eyes. “Oh dear. I’m not sure you can afford it.”

“Anything,” Eggsy said frankly, shutting the binder with a snap. “I’ll pay you anything, just--don’t tell anybody.”

Ellie’s grin was very wide now, and as delighted as a child’s. “Personal copies of everything,” she demanded, “and £2,000.”

Only that much? Harry gave Eggsy three times that every month. Granted, it was never a lump sum… Oh well. Eggsy juggled binders and reached reluctantly for his cheque book. But this was worth far more than just a measly two thousand. To him, at least.

And now, time to confront Harry.

~~~\0/~~~

Eggsy waited until that night, when he and Harry were showering together before bed, to spring his trap.

“Let’s try something different tonight,” he suggested, as Harry scrubbed that one spot on Eggsy’s back that he could never reach.

Harry kissed his shoulder, smiling a little. “Like what, mon chéri?”

“Like… oh… What’s that thing you were talking about last week? The one where you put your tongue--”

“Let’s not,” Harry cut in hastily.

“Why not?” Eggsy stepped back until he was pressed firmly against Harry, reaching over his head to hook his clasped hands on the back of Harry’s neck. “Can’t you deliver on your promises anymore?”

Harry was getting hard. Good. His hands were wandering to delicious areas as well. Also good. “I can deliver. Je peux te faire des choses qui dépassent tout tes rêves les plus fous, mon coeur.]”

“You gotta start translating for me, I can’t keep outsourcing.” It was hard to focus though, with that husky growl in his ear and those hands finding all his most sensitive spots. No, that was what he was trying to do--Harry was trying to distract Eggsy, and it would not work. Not this time, Eggsy swore to himself grimly.

“I… can’t really help it,” Harry admitted. “It’s… habit.”

“Well, can you try to break it, please? Starting tonight?”

Harry chuckled and buried his face at the join of Eggsy’s neck and shoulder. “Yes. Shall we finish up, so we may experiment in a more suitable environment?”

Eggsy grinned and turned his head enough to kiss Harry’s temple. “Yeah, sure.”

They finished scrubbing each other (each teasing mercilessly until they were both gasping), and barely managed to rinse off; Harry didn’t bother waiting to dry off before hoisting Eggsy up on to the counter and reaching for--

“EGGSY EGGSY EGGSY, ARE YOU DOOOONE?!” Daisy yelled from outside the bathroom, startling both men considerably. “MUMMY SAYS SHE NEEDS TO TALK TO YOU!”

Harry growled a curse, but backed off enough for Eggsy to answer. “Yeah, just a minute, Dais!”

“I’m telling mummy one minute!”

“Yes, yes, I got it!” Eggsy grabbed a towel and started drying himself as quickly as possible; Harry helped, and kept him from falling over when he tripped, and chuckled as Eggsy scowled. Eggsy was dressed and out of the bathroom in much less than a minute, and trotted downstairs flushed, out of breath, and only a little cranky. He was dry, at least.

“Yeah? What’s up?” he asked, combing his hair into place with his fingers as he entered the sitting room.

Mum was looking through a few papers. She looked up when he walked in, and smiled triumphantly.

“I’ve got my own house now,” she announced.

Eggsy’s chest felt funny and tight.

“It’s the one next door.”

The tightness loosened a little, but not all the way. He did grin, though, because that was what mum expected, and came over to kiss her cheek. “So we finally chased you out?”

“You deserve space,” mum replied comfortably, “And I think running back and forth will be good exercise for Daisy. Now go inform your boyfriend so he can gloat out of my face.”

“He won’t gloat!” Eggsy protested, stung. “He’ll miss you and Daisy too.”

“I don’t believe you, but it’s a nice thought. Thanks, babe.”


End file.
